


Buckaroo Gets a Cold

by stew (julie)



Category: The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across The 8th Dimension (1984)
Genre: Coming Out, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1988-07-16
Updated: 1988-07-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22172722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/stew
Summary: Is Buckaroo Banzai only human after all…?
Relationships: Buckaroo Banzai/Rawhide





	Buckaroo Gets a Cold

**Author's Note:**

> **First published:** in my zine “Samurai Errant: Cavalier Tales Quixotic and Profane” #1 on 16 July 1988

# Buckaroo Gets a Cold 

(and it serves him right, too)

♦

It always happened, once or twice a winter – and every now and then in summer, if any of our people were in the wrong part of the world at the wrong time. Even though we were an isolated bunch in so many ways, I guess in other ways we met and mixed with more people in a week than a lot of people would in a year. 

So every winter, one by one, we’d all want to be flat on our backs for all the wrong reasons – someone would catch a cold and it would go the rounds, Mrs Johnson coming after with hot lemon drinks and plenty of sympathy. Sympathy was one thing we were all dependent on her for. Buckaroo never gave us any. I don’t think the bastard had been sick a day in his life, beyond the usual childhood complaints he assured me he had suffered along with the rest of humanity. 

Anyway, none of us these days suffered for long; we were all too fit and healthy to begin with. Buckaroo was just more so, I suppose. And insisted that a positive attitude was all one needed. I believed that about almost everything else. 

Reno was the first, this time, with the red nose and sore head. He came grumbling into the bunkhouse, and you could see everyone’s spirits sink. Mrs Johnson heaved a great sigh and put on a bright smile. Tommy and Pecos were the next ones (Tommy’s never been too perfect to catch a cold), and then I felt the familiar dry throat and aches and pains. 

Early to bed that night, snugged up tight in my quilt, box of tissues close to hand, it was a pleasant surprise to see Buckaroo leaning over me. “Comfort for the troops?” I asked hopefully. 

“Ah, Rawhide,” he said, shaking his head at me like I was a child who had never learnt this simplest of lessons. “All you have to do is –”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re not even going to tuck me in, are you?”

He flashed that smile at me, and I suddenly remembered that this was the first time I’d been ill, with Buckaroo around, since we’d become lovers. “I can do more than tuck you in, grumble-guts, if you let me under a corner of- that quilt.” And he stripped off, and curled up in his accustomed place in my bed, me curled up around him. 

“The last thing I expected from you was a bit of understanding,” I murmured contentedly.

“Ah, you bring it all on yourselves,” he started, sounding a trifle smug. 

“And sure enough, understanding is the last thing I get,” I cut in flatly. He laughed, and I pulled him even closer to me. “I’d just as soon have a goodnight kiss as your sympathy.” 

“I could probably manage that.” 

♦

Two mornings later, Buckaroo stumbled into the bunkhouse, eyes screwed up, hands reaching for support, nose red and running. Half the Cavaliers leapt to their feet, thinking all sorts of terrible things. Mrs Johnson looked on in horror. Maybe she figured _she_ wasn’t so immune if the great Buckaroo wasn’t either.

“Oh, my head,” Buckaroo exclaimed, and sat down abruptly. 

Most of the Cavaliers still had their mouths hanging open, even when they realized it was nothing fatal. A few of them started smiling a little maliciously. 

Perfect Tommy settled back into his newspaper. He didn’t look so perfect with a red nose. “So, who’s given the boss a cold, Reno?” 

“Search me.” 

I guess I sort of smirked in the sudden realization of my guilt. No one saw except Buckaroo who was fixing me with a very steely glare. 

Mrs Johnson came back in with a steaming mug and two paracetamol. Amid various sarcastic comments from the troops on the need to keep a positive frame of mind, I made my way over to Buckaroo’s inert form. 

“Could always try the Italian Cure-All, Buckaroo,” I muttered. 

He raised his head, hope glinting pitifully in his eyes. “What’s that?”

I bent down and whispered in his ear for a long time. Of course, it’s a good healthy dose of old-fashioned sex, but I described in graphic detail exactly what I proposed doing with him. When I lifted my head away, to the interested gaze of everyone in the room, he had turned lobster-red. He looked uncertainly round from one face to another. Everyone delighted in the once-in-a-lifetime experience of Buckaroo not only being proved wrong, but being left wordless. I should have known better. 

“Gentlemen,” he began, mustering what dignity he could. “Gentlepeople, sorry,” he started again as Mrs Johnson, Pecos and Mustang Sally raised their eyebrows. “We have located the tenth planet. We have climbed Everest’s north face. One day soon we will travel in solid matter. I think it is time we found a cure for the common cold. 

“Rawhide,” he said, turning to me. “That can be your project. You’re keen on bugs.” 

I growled at him, and people laughed. 

“Off to the labs with you, then,” Buckaroo said. 

“Yeah – this will be your lifetime’s work, Rawhide. Better get started now,” Reno agreed. 

“A bit of research to start with,” I said, heading for Buckaroo again. He laughed up at me, cold forgotten for the moment. “We’ll have to experiment with the Italian Cure-All, see if there’s any truth to it.” And before he could protest, I’d scooped him up in my arms and carried him out the door, to a room of half stunned silence and half surprised laughter. I guess they had to find out sooner or later. 

“Just because you’re bigger than me,” Buckaroo grumbled, but I saw the laughter still in his eyes. 

“It has its advantages,” I agreed. “Quit complaining and let me look after you.” 

He sighed a little, and hung on tight. He was surprisingly light – all long limbs, red nose and happy smile. “Right now that sounds like an excellent idea.” 

“Just be sure to keep up that positive attitude, Buckaroo.” 

“Oh shut up,” he said fondly. “Just shut up and blow my nose for me.” 

♦


End file.
